


Where the Oleanders Dream

by Temaris



Category: Mr. Benn
Genre: F/M, community: mmom, mmom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-06
Updated: 2009-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, it's time to put aside the fantasy.  And sometimes, the fantasy comes after you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Oleanders Dream

It was a lovely day. Mr. Benn looked out of the window and smiled at the children playing in the street. Today was the first Monday in May, and everyone had the day off. Everyone except Mr. Benn, that is. Mr. Benn was very busy, and had to go into the office despite the sunshine and the holiday.

Mr. Benn sighed a little, then got up, washed and got dressed, had his breakfast and left number 52 Festive Road for work. The bus was almost empty, and he wished he could have had a lie in too. It didn't take long to get into town, and he was soon in his office, working hard.

At twelve o'clock precisely, Mr. Benn put down his pen, put away his papers into the big folder, put on his bowler hat, and left the office for a little walk. He could take the rest of the day off, and he was planning on enjoying the sunshine. Anticipation buzzed through him. He'd promised himself a treat if he finished the work: a quick visit to the delightful costume shop, and perhaps he could even stretch to cake and buns for tea on the way home. It was the Bank Holiday, after all.

He walked briskly to the costume shop, smiling at the world as he went. He rang the little bell and the shopkeeper appeared, cheerful as always.

"Working on the Bank Holiday? That is very hard," the shopkeeper said sympathetically.

"Just finished," he said, and leaned in a little, "I did wonder if you might be closed too--"

"Oh no," the shopkeeper shook his head, "We are always open. Now, can I show you to the changing room? Perhaps today we will discover something entirely new," he said, his eyes twinkling, and he ushered Mr. Benn into the changing room and closed the door.

Hanging on the wall was a soft open waistcoat of pale blue, and loose flowing trousers, a little like the Aladdin costume, but when he put it on, carefully hanging up his suit and shirt as he went, it felt very different. Soft and slippery on his skin. It was very thin too, and he looked doubtfully at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were darker somehow, and his body less like a man who sat in an office from nine until five every day.

"I wonder what we will see today," he said, and pushed open the door in the changing room. The other door.

Sand blew in through the open door and he coughed, and stepped forward. It was warm and shifted pleasantly under his bare feet. The sun was bright here -- far brighter than it had been at home, and he blinked in the brilliant light.

"Welcome, welcome!" A large man came up to him and dropped a heavy arm around his neck. "Come in, and we will provide you with everything you ever desired!"

Mr. Benn felt quite disconcerted. The day was very sunny, though, and when he was led into a lovely walled garden, filled with flowers and fountains and lovely girls (many of whom were wearing even less than he) he didn't complain. His eyes got a little wider.

A very pretty lady came up and offered him a tray of ripe fruit, and he picked the peach, with a smiled, "Thank you, Miss!", and bit in. It was quite the most delicious fruit he'd ever tasted.

Another young lady took his free hand and led him through the garden, wandering along the stone paths, pebbles of a thousand different hues lining the edges. He finished the peach and threw the pit into a fish pond. They paused, and the young lady giggled to see the rush of golden fish to the surface of the pool.

"They think we are here to feed them," she confided, leaning her perfumed cheek against his bare upper arm. "So many of them, and only one perfect treasure for them to fight over."

She looked up through her lashes to Mr. Benn, who could feel himself begin to blush. "There are many perfect treasures in this garden," he said, with an unaccustomed gallantry, and patted her hand where it was tucked confidingly on his arm.

The young lady ducked her head and giggled prettily.

Mr. Benn felt a wholly unaccustomed warmth, not at all related to the heat of the sunlit gardens, begin to swell within him.

"Where were you taking me, my dear?" he asked, valiantly hoping to keep her eyes on his face, and not have her glance downwards where surely the loose muslin trousers would conceal practically nothing from her innocent, kohl-dark eyes.

"Why, the pavilion, sir," and as she gestured it was as though a veil was swept away, and the vague shapes in the distance took form into silken tents and marquees hung heavy with rugs and redolent in rich spices and sweet perfumes.

Their pace quickened, although Mr. Benn wasn't quite sure if it was her will or his that hastened them along their path. "What is your name, my dear," he said.

She smiled coquettishly at him, "Whatever you wish it to be."

"Oh, no," he said, unhappily. "No, no. I would like -- that is -- if it's not forbidden? I would very much like to know your real name?"

The young lady's eyes widened hugely, and then she smiled at him, warm and genuine, and far more lovely than all the beautiful things he had already seen. "Jennifer, my name is Jennifer. Or Jenny." She smiled sweetly up at him and he couldn't help smiling back.

It struck Mr. Benn that the name wasn't very Arabian Nights at all, and he almost said as much but a slender finger lightly touched his lips and she shook her head slightly. "And you're Mr. Benn," she said softly.

"Why, why yes, I am, but--"

"Oh, we all know Mr. Benn," Jenny said, and stood up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. "Come inside, Mr. Benn."

And she tugged on his hand, leading him into the first and largest tent. Inside were cushions and couches, tables of fruit and dancing girls, wearing veils that whirled and swirled, revealing and concealing by turns until he hardly knew where to look. On the couches girls knelt by men, their hands moving in slow circles on narrow hips, their mouths wrapped around hard membra viriles; men kissed girls, suckled on their breasts, sliding knowing hands down between silken thighs.

Strong backs undulated slowly over slender bodies, and he stared, wide eyed, slowly absorbing the infinite variety of couplings -- and triplings and quadruplings -- in progress.

"Dear Mr. Benn," Jenny said, after a long moment. "May we help you?"

She cut her eyes for the most fleeting moment towards his own erect member. He felt blood flood to his face, and was surprised how fierily he could still blush, considering that the larger part of his circulation appeared to be far more interested in participating in the games in progress.

"I--I--" he stammered, and Jenny shook her head gently.

"This is where you may have whatever you wish, dear sir," she said. "Come and sit, drink. Perhaps when you are refreshed we can take our pleasure of each other."

He sank onto the couch; it was deep and soft. Jenny settled herself on his lap and pulled a tray of fruit over. She took a grape for herself, and then offered Mr. Benn one. She wouldn't let him take it from her, but instead fed him by hand. "Let me, dear Mr. Benn," she whispered into his ear, and flustered, he obeyed.

Gradually he came to an awareness that she was rocking gently on his thighs, to the point that he was quite unable to think of anything but the sweet friction she was offering. And a moment later, she laughed softly, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Dear Mr. Benn. You aren't ever going to ask, are you?"

"Miss, Miss Jenny, I'm afraid that I would be taking advantage, and--"

She grinned outright. "Shall I tell you a secret, sir?" she whispered.

"If you, oh my, if you would like to?"

"In a moment, dear Mr. Benn," she said. "First, let me give you this." Her hand slipped between them, under the waistband of his trousers, and a moment later he was crying out brokenly.

When he regained his breath and senses, he opened his eyes again. Jenny was rocking herself back and forth on his thigh, her face ecstatic and rejoicing. Tentatively he wrapped his arms about her waist, and pressed little kisses to her lips and cheek and neck.

She cried out joyfully a moment later, and when she came back to herself, she smiled into his eyes, winding her lithe arms about his neck, and kissing his lips with eager fervour.

There was a shimmer in the air, and Jenny's hands were firmly on Mr. Benn's face. "Listen. This is the secret: You are not the only one who visits the shop," she whispered urgently. "Come find me. When we're both back home. Come and find me." She finished with a last kiss, and stood, stepping away.

"I--I shall," he said awkwardly. "Dear Jenny." And in a flush of shy eagerness, added, "Tristan. Please call me Tristan."

She blew a kiss towards him, and mouthed, "Au revoir, Tristan," at him.

He slumped back on the couch in a happy daze.

Just then, as if by magic, the shopkeeper appeared.

"Lunchtime is over, Mr. Benn," he said cheerfully, and Mr. Benn nodded.

"Of course," he replied, and followed the man back through a door in the side of the tent, back to the little changing room in the costume shop. Mr. Benn changed quickly into his suit, settled his bowler hat at a rakish angle, and picked up his umbrella and briefcase, and looked at himself in the mirror.

"That was a perfectly *splendid* adventure," he murmured, and adjusted his tie neatly. He left the changing room and lifted his hat politely to the shopkeeper. "Thank you so much! I shall take this one."

And for the first time ever, he bought one of the costumes; watched as it was neatly folded into crisp tissue paper (the trousers clean as though never worn); and then into a securely wrapped brown paper parcel.

He paid and slipped the parcel into his briefcase.

"Thank you!" said the shopkeeper. "See you again soon!"

"Perhaps," Mr. Tristan Benn said thoughtfully, and lifted his hat again, "Good day!"

He glanced in the shop window as he went past on the way back home, and then paused. In the reflection it seemed he'd seen Jenny, waving at him. But the door was locked when he tried it, and he knew that he would have to wait.

Walking along Festive Road children were playing. Mr. Benn went home, and reached inside his pocket for his keys. Instead he found a scrap of silk and lace, fragrant as pomegranates in the early evening, delicate as gossamer. Embroidered in the palest thread in one corner, were an intertwined T and J.

And Mr. Benn smiled.


End file.
